lucky #7

I entered Round 7 with a hopeful heart and UCSF welcomed me with love. It was so touching and unexpected. The receptionist, usually all business, called me sweetheart and wished me luck on my “big day.” The nurse who took me to the exam room welcomed me with a twinkle in her eye. When I told Nurse Stephanie about the puff of air that came out at the end of the trigger shot and how I’d probably get it right next time, she smiled and said, “Let’s hope there is no next time.”

She injected McPiercy’s 9 million and left me alone with my thoughts. I cried a tear. I prayed. And then I got dressed.

As I walked out, the receptionist actually followed me to the elevator. She gently touched my back as she said, “I just wanted to tell you that I feel this time will work–you’re going to get good news.” I thanked her from the bottom of my heart and got on the elevator and burst into tears. On the street, I called my mom and burst into tears again relaying all of the above.

In reality, nobody ever knows what’s going on in there in the early stages, but these felt like good omens. My hope balloon was inflated with helium and it’s still flying high.

The next day, I saw my acupuncturist and he says my pulse is back to normal: good energy, low stress. I feel good. I’m getting a lot of sleep. I’ve confirmed almost daily with Dr. Google that there really are no legit symptoms until implantation–no hormonal changes, no nothing. Just two fine embryos traveling along.

This hasn’t stopped me from mentally reaching out to them, scanning my internal night sky with radar. But they are stealth fighters, undetectable until they’re ready for me to pick up a signal.

I’m mostly patient, occasionally slip into what-if scenarios, and wake up every morning expressing gratitude. The next 9 days of staycation and time with beloved family is precisely what I want and need.

Meanwhile, my latest dating busy work seems to be winding down and I’m looking forward to starting 2013 with a clean slate:

In a moment of weakness, I texted Morocco to say how are you and he texted back within 30 seconds to say he’s fine, thanks. Four days later, he added, “and you?”

I finally got the actual invitation from Hawaii, 5 days from the date in question and 1 day after his arrival in Portland. He said how about coming up next weekend. He’s staying with his buddy who would be totally cool with a “third roomie.” And by the way, how are plane tickets looking?

I’m going to go out on a limb here and say I can do better. WAY BETTER.

In 2013, I will veer away from the exotic, unavailable men of the internet.

Thank you for all your prayerful texts, emails, comments, phone calls and amens–and especially to M for talking me off several ledges related to Dr. H.

Please keep sending your love to the wonder twins currently sailing down their lazy river. Send them a welcoming mental text. Everything helps.